Centrifuge
When I was a child I rode a centrifuge.
Excitement keening in my stomach,
strapped in, giggling,
wide eyed to new sensations.
Then whirling,
the dip and swoop,
the sunny amusement park
careening around and around.
Colours blurring into squeals
of delight and fear.
Then dizzy,
staggering back to the
routine pace of the day to day,
clutching memories to be taken out
on gray days.
How was I to know?
Life is a centrifuge.
#132
Linda Studley 